Release Date: July 18th
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Be prepared for an intense EPIC love story!
Meghan Quinn is proud to announce the box set of The Duets!! The Blue Line Duet (Upside of Falling and Downside of Love) is now bundled together with The Perfect Duet (Left Side of Perfect and Right Side of Forever). For
TWO DAYS ONLY grab this box set for
ONLY 99 CENTS!!!!
THE DUETS:
Gripping, heart-stopping, and an incredibly epic journey with a twist you'll never see coming. USA Today bestselling author Meghan Quinn, brings you a modern take on an old fashion romance that will leave you breathless and wanting more.
This isn’t a story about a love triangle. There is no triangle involved.
This isn’t a story about an accidental pregnancy. Although having a baby with her . . . I would.
This isn’t a story about lies and deception, even though at times I’ve lied to myself.
No, this is my story.
A story about sacrifice.
A story about a man who fell in love with the wrong girl.
A story I wish I never had to tell.
I learned a long damn time ago, the only way to achieve my dreams was to avoid distractions—at any cost.
But all it took was one single night. One night and my entire life…changed.
One night had me colliding head first with the biggest distraction of my life; Rory Oaks. Smart. Charming. Beautiful. Rory changed everything.
Quickly, my one-track mind, my goals started to bend.
Each kiss faded decade-long dreams.
And with one single interaction, I flew off course.
The Right Side of Forever
EXCERPT
from THE UPSIDE OF FALLING
Head
turned down, pushing the sleeves of his white Henley up his arms, he swaggers
toward me. His jeans hang low on his hips, held up by the same brown belt he
wore the other night. His narrow waist directs my eyes to the center of his
jeans, and I can’t help wonder what might be behind the crotch of his pants.
And
then there is his chest. Barrel like, broad and prominent. His thick biceps
showcase his strength, and the fabric of his shirt stretches over his shoulders
and forearms. Having spent a lot of time at the gym, I’ve seen every body type,
but Colby’s is different. He’s strong, built, but not like a body builder. His
body seems to suggest the only kind of weight he’s been lifting is his own
body, pushup after pushup. I can’t imagine there being barbells in his
workouts, but I can imagine logs, cadets, and heavy machinery. He has working
muscles, the kind you earn from hard, dedicated work on the field. In a
word? Impressive.
Walking
up to Stryder, he grips his friend’s shoulder and says something into his ear.
A smirk crosses Stryder’s face before he moves over to our side of the bowling
alley and takes Colby’s place.
Is
he leaving? Already?
Might
as well at this point. It’s not like he’s going to talk to me, not after my
pathetic attempt at a bet. I should have known I was going to hang out in the
gutter all night. It’s where I usually am when I’m bowling. I blame the ball. The
thing has a vendetta against me.
Sighing,
I prop my chin in my hand and watch Stryder expertly toss his ball down the
lane, getting a strike . . . once again. And just like every other strike, he
pumps his arm up in the air and celebrates. We get it, you’re good, no need to—
“Hey.”
That
voice . . .
Stunned,
eyes wide, not able to move, not wanting to scare him away, I keep my eyes
trained forward, soaking in that beautifully deep voice of his for a brief
moment before saying, “Hey.”
“Can
I sit here?”
Still
keeping my eyes trained forward, I say, “Sure.”
My
body tingles with awareness of how close he is to me, that fresh laundry scent
invading my senses, prickling the little hairs on my arm. My body leans toward
his, wanting a little more, searching for anything else he might give me. I
don’t know why he’s choosing to engage me in conversation, but I’m sure as hell
not moving while he does.
“Sorry
about tonight,” he says and he actually sounds sincere.
“Why
are you sorry?” I mumble.
Reaching
around, he takes my cheek in his hand. The callouses on his palm rubbing
against my skin is a welcome sensation. As I’m turned toward him, I steady my
breathing. I’m having a hard time slowing my heart rate because of his close
proximity, and the unexpected touch shooting a wave of heat through my veins.
“I’m
sorry you didn’t get to ask me any questions. I didn’t think you were going to
suck that bad.” A playful smile tugs at his lips, and my heart sinks to the
floor. Oh God, he’s so gorgeous, especially when he smiles.
Matching
his smirk, I say, “I didn’t think I was going to suck that bad either.”
“I
feel bad.”
“You
should.” That garners a laugh, deep and throaty, the sound cloaking me like a
shield, protecting me from the outside world, bringing me into a little bubble
where we are the only two that exist.
“Ask
me a question.”
Shocked,
I swallow hard and say, “Really?”
He
nods and holds up his fingers. “You get three.”
“Oh,
three? Wow, I feel like you just gave me the key to your soul.”
Rolling
his eyes, he adjusts his stance on the barstool and leans back, giving us some
space, our knees still knocking into each other. “Easy killer; it’s just three
questions.”
“Yeah,
three questions I didn’t have before.” Tapping my chin, I try to think of good
questions, but now that I have him willing and waiting, nothing comes to mind.
I wasn’t prepared for this, he caught me off-guard, and now I feel I can’t be
strategic about my probing. “Hmm . . . what do you like to do on the weekends?”
“Jump,”
he answers.
Searching
his eyes, lips quirked, I say, “Uh, you’re going to have to be more specific
than that. What kind of jumping are we talking here? Like jump roping? Because
that seems kind of weird to do on the weekends, and if you tell me you’re in
some kind of jump-roping club at the academy, I’m not going to believe you.”
His
lips curve up as he scratches the side of his jaw. “Jump out of airplanes.”
Oh.
Oh.
That’s
. . .
Uh,
that’s really hot.
“So
you just casually jump out of airplanes?”
“I’m
part of the Wings of Blue, the academy’s parachute team. We jump every day, at
least two to three times a day after class and before dinner, depending on wind
and ceiling limits. On the weekends, some of the guys, including Stryder and
me, go to Springs East Airport and do civilian jumps. The more jumps we get in,
the higher the chance we’ll be considered for big demonstrations, like
parachuting into football games and major sporting events for the Rockies and
Broncos.” Ummmm. Did anyone else just hear how many words he gifted me? And
seriously? Does the man have no clue how incredibly sexy he is when he talks
about something he loves? The expression on his face . . .
“Wow,
that’s . . . that’s really hot.” I chuckle. “Sorry, I don’t mean to fangirl
over your parachuting, but I guess I wasn’t expecting that answer. You just
jump out of planes?”
He
slowly nods. “Every day.”
“Anything
to get you up in the clouds, huh?”
“Yeah,”
he answers shyly, rubbing his jaw. “Okay, next question.”
About the Author:
USA Today Bestselling Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Author of romantic comedies and contemporary romance, Meghan Quinn brings readers the perfect combination of heart, humor, and heat in every book.
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